“Dude, I can teach you to cook.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” Viktor replied, unfazed by Rafe. He reached for a silver, glittery gift bag and extended it to her. “Put them on. It’s sunny.”
Waverly reached inside, removed the case and gently opened it. A rush of anticipation washed over her as she tugged the silk bag off the sunglasses. CHANEL.
“I can’t accept these.” She slid them into the case and snapped it shut.
“Don’t be silly. Of course, you can.”
“They’re too expensive. No, I’m sorry, here.” She held out the box to him.
Viktor locked his eyes on hers and spoke, never once looking away. “Rafe. Get in the jet. Give us a minute.”
A warm breeze blew into the limo as the driver opened the door.
“You got it, Boss.” Rafe made short work of shuffling over the seat, quickly exiting, leaving them alone.
Waverly’s pulse raced as Viktor slid next to her. He reached for the case, slowly opening it, unfolding the glasses. Under his intense gaze, her heart pounded as he closed the distance. Her eyes drifted to his lips, mere inches from hers.
“They are a gift. Best not to have the sun in those beautiful eyes of yours.”
“I…” Desire burned hot through her body, her tight peaks strained against her blouse and warmth flooded between her legs. She lost herself in his eyes, and swore she saw flecks of fire dancing in them. As he leaned toward her, she released a sigh.
“It’s a gift, mo chroí,” he whispered, his lips mere inches from hers.
Waverly closed her eyes, anticipating his kiss, but as he slid the sunglasses onto her face, she blinked them open to find him staring at her. A rush of disappointment washed over her, followed by confusion. What am I doing? What spell am I under? I almost kissed him. Oh my God. This is crazy.
“You’re beautiful,” he told her and then quickly exited the limo.
Waverly reached for his hand, and stepped onto the tarmac, the blistering Miami sun instantly warming her. With a gentle arm he guided her to the steps and ushered her onto the plane.
As she stepped into the plush cabin, she accepted a glass of champagne from the flight attendant. She slipped into the cushioned leather seat and set her drink onto the table in front of her, fastening her seat belt. As the plane door shut and the plane rolled down the runway, she stared out the window, overwhelmed by the experience.
Her mind raced as the wheels lifted off the ground. This vampire, this force of nature, tempted her like no other man. No matter what she’d told herself, in that moment, she knew her life would never be the same again.
Waverly anxiously bit her lip, staring out into the blue sky. She released a sigh of relief as the jet leveled off and finally reached its cruising speed.
“Do you enjoy traveling?” Viktor asked.
“Love to travel. Flying, not so much. It’s a necessary evil.” Waverly looked around the lavish interior. “Although I’ve never flown on a plane like this one before.”
“May I freshen your drink, mademoiselle?” The flight attendant who seemingly appeared out of nowhere handed Waverly another flute of bubbly.
“Um…sure.” She accepted, reluctant to appear rude.
Viktor and Rafe, who both sat facing her from their individual captain’s chairs also accepted fresh glasses.
Waverly smiled at the handsome young wolf. His unruly, curly brown hair spilled over his shoulders. With board shorts, a hoodie and flip flops, he rocked a casual vibe, fitting for California.
Her gaze drifted to Viktor who held his glass into the air. As if he’d walked off the pages of GQ, the white shirt fitted him like a glove, accentuating his tanned skin. The hint of his woodsy cologne teased her nose and she restrained herself from asking what kind he wore. No girl, no.
As he removed his sunglasses, he pinned her with a heated gaze. Warmth coursed through her body, and she crossed her legs, willing it to go away. What is this man doing to me? How is a vampire so damned tanned?
“A proper toast?” he suggested.
“A toast, um, yes,” she managed.
“To our wonderful new friendship. May we only thirst for each other.” Viktor didn’t wait for a response as he brought the glass to his smiling lips.
Waverly laughed and sipped, the bubbles teasing her tongue. Where am I? On a private jet drinking champagne with a vampire and a werewolf, because this happens every day. Yep.
“What’s going through that beautiful mind of yours?” Viktor asked.
“It’s just that…well, I’m not exactly used to this.” Waverly looked around the cabin, noting a small chuckle from Rafe.
“My pilots are the very best. No need to worry about anything up here.”
“You’d think I’d be used to it by now.” At the sight of dark clouds in the distance, Waverly took a gulp of her champagne. “Is that a storm?”
“The pilot will fly around them. Would you like something to eat?” Viktor asked.
As if on cue, the perky brunette flight attendant appeared. “Would you like lunch, mademoiselle? We have croissant sandwiches, charcuterie, homemade pastries, chocolates.”
“A sandwich would be lovely.” Waverly recalled their conversation about food and wondered if he’d drank blood yet today.
Rafe pulled out a pair of headphones from his backpack. “Noise cancelling. I’m gonna get in a nap.”
Viktor smiled, silent as the flight attendant set out a china platter topped with petite sandwiches. She unfolded a napkin, draping it over Waverly’s lap and set a bottle of Perrier onto the side table.
Waverly reached for a croissant and attempted to bite down as gracefully as she could. Tiny pieces of bread flaked everywhere. A delightful, flavorful bite of turkey and spiced mayo danced over her tongue. “Mmm…this is delicious.”
“Good,” Viktor responded.
Waverly’s eyes narrowed in on his strong fingers as he tipped his glass and sipped.
“How is it you don’t eat food but drink champagne?”
Viktor gave a secretive smile. “Long story.”
“Long flight. What gives? Is it a requirement for vampires to look debonair and drink expensive wines?”
“I enjoy champagne every now and then,” Viktor commented blithely. “In truth, it’s linked to a memory, a brief encounter with an Englishman. While it was the monks who are often credited with the creation of champagne, he was the one who really discovered it.”
“A monk?”
“Oui. Dom Pérignon. He was a Benedictine monk. But it was my lad, Christopher Merrett who discovered the bubbly one fine eve. And what a lovely eve it was.”
His story reminded Waverly that he wasn’t just another human. He’d been walking the earth for many years. He spoke as if he’d known so many who lived long ago, because he’d experienced it himself.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way. But exactly how old are you?” She gave him a tight smile as if bracing for bad news.
“I’m as old as the night and day.” Viktor gave a small laugh. “Over a thousand years I’ve walked this big, blue, space rock.”
“Thousand?” A knot formed in her throat.